


Burn Me Up

by Koolwolfpup



Category: Left 4 Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 14:36:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18478258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koolwolfpup/pseuds/Koolwolfpup
Summary: Ellis dies on the bridge at the end of The Parish. Rochelle and Coach are left to delve through the grief and guilt of leaving their dead friend while still trying to survive together and get to their families. Nick is left still trying to deny just what he felt for the man he feels he left to die.In other words, Nick blames himself for things that weren't his fault but still won't admit he loves Ellis and Rochelle and Coach have to keep him from destroying himself.





	Burn Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first l4d fic and my friend made me write it. Or really, she said something and it spurred me to write it and I blame her. So you should also blame her and not me for the feels. lol. It started out as a one-shot last October. Now I have a whole plot cause I'm weak and I like angsty stuff. Hope y'all enjoy this train wreck of emotions! ♥️

_Shit._

 

Is all he can think. Ellis feels the tank throw him from the bridge, pain welling in his chest from the impact of it's big hands smacking into him like a golf club into a ball. He hears Rochelle yell and Nick curse loudly, though he can't discern what they say for the wind is roaring too loudly in his ears as he falls through the air. Luckily, he manages to get a grip on the side railing of the bridge right before falling to his imminent doom. The sudden halt of his body's downward movement yanks his arms harshly, causing a pained grunt to leave him, but he manages to keep his grip.

 

“TITS! OVERALLS! HANG IN THERE KID!” Nick shouts in his direction. The older man then aims at the tank that is now barreling at him, shooting it with his assault rifle.

 

“It's alright, I definitely will!” Ellis calls back then winces as the shout rattles something in his chest painfully. Something is definitely broken. The sudden stab of pain and lapse of concentration has him struggling to keep his grip. He cringes and rights himself with a wheeze, then tries to climb back up on his own, but with the lack of footholds, he isn't able.

 

Despite this, he is able to hoist himself up far enough to see Coach get thrown. The big man's head snaps back as he hits a car and he slumps to the ground.

 

“COACH!” Rochelle cries at the same time as Ellis and races to the battered health teacher, desperately trying to help him up.

 

Nick runs in Ellis’ direction, only to be blocked by the tank. It grabs him and throws him across the bridge. He lands roughly on the asphalt, rolling to a stop and groaning, struggling to get up. Panic fills Ellis and he begins scrabbling harder at the side of the bridge to no avail.

 

“NICK!” The young southerner screams, ignoring the pain that laces his chest as he does. He looks frantically to the others. Coach is up, limping, face pained, but up. Rochelle is with him, helping him run from the tank. The tank is between him and his friends. If only he could pull himself up over the damn edge! “Guys RUN! I'll be okay don't worry!” Ellis struggles a bit more. Part of his mind tells him that no, he will probably need a bit of help, but it's overruled by the want for his friends to be alright.

 

“NO YOU WO- FUCK!” Nick is on his feet, trying to run around the massive zombie to no avail. There is a very blatant stagger to his step that informs that he is probably as hurt as Coach. The thing nearly grabs him again, but the gambler dodges this time around, getting a few shots off on it. He still has to back away, furthering his distance from Ellis.

 

Rochelle and Coach are backing away reluctantly. They both have to jump to avoid a car that the tank throws in their direction. The massive zombie pushes the three further away, unearthing a chunk of asphalt and chucking it at them with a terrifying ease as they run.

 

Ellis does the one thing he can think of. He braces one arm on the bridge, it shudders with strain as he uses the other to dig a syringe of adrenaline out of his pocket. He lifts it to his mouth and removes the cap with his teeth, then haphazardly shoots it into his other arm. He prays to the Lord that the adrenaline will kick in, in time. That it will be enough, for he can feel that his arms are very close to giving way.

 

Fervent energy shoots through him suddenly, making his nerves crackle with electricity and a newly born strength floods into his muscles. He heaves himself up onto the bridge and effortlessly gets to his feet. There is a gentle ache in his arms, barely even acknowledgable under the buzz of electric fire tingling through him. Though he knows it will turn into a full on scream of pain when the adrenaline leaves his system. Right now, he couldn't care less.

 

He hears screeching from behind him and pulls the machete he picked up earlier from the strap he is keeping it in. He turns, seeing multiple undead sons-of-bitches sprinting toward him. Without another second of hesitation, he takes off, running in the direction of his friends. A bit further ahead he sees the tank's massive hunk of fleshy body laying dead.

 

Good.

 

His friends are far ahead, being herded by the hordes of zombies coming at them from almost every direction. Nick is trying to fight his way back through, most likely to get back to Ellis. This makes the southerner's chest swell with warmth but he pushes it down for now. He still smiles wide.

 

“HEY NICK!” He calls, then winces slightly. Even the adrenaline coursing through his veins isn't enough to fully dampen the spark of pain that flares in his chest. Yeah, something is _definitely_ broken.

 

The conman looks up in Ellis’ direction, relief visibly flooding through his features. Ellis fights through the pain and calls out a second time.

 

“KEEP GOING, I'LL CATCH UP!” Suddenly, the small horde that was behind Ellis closes in on him, swarming him. The zombies snarl at him in a blind rage, staggering forward to claw and bite at his shirt and coveralls. He swings his machete in a broad swipe taking out two at once and pushing some of the others away, trying to keep moving. Normally he would exclaim loudly at the fact that he just killed two zombies with one swing and say something along the lines of ‘Did anyone else see that?! I mean seriously that was freakin cool!’ but a roar bellows behind him and the ground beneath his feet shakes. “Oh hell!” Ellis exclaims instead. He turns, only to come almost face to face with another tank. HOW MANY OF THESE BIG DEAD DUDES ARE THERE?!?

 

__

 

Nick feels a flood of relief at the sight of Ellis. The hick is calling to him from the top part of the broken bridge a smile wide on his face. At initial inspection, he looks alright, but there is no fucking way he is after being tossed like a sack of potatoes off the side of the bridge and then having to climb back up onto it by himself.

 

Nick opens his mouth to make a retort because no, he will not leave the kid by himself, that is an extremely stupid idea. But, the infected assholes that surround him obviously have a different take on that idea. Despite taking quite a few down with his axe, their numbers don't seem to be thinning at all. In fact they seem to double each time he slices through one.

 

Fucking tits.

 

It is with great reluctance that Nick nods and glares up at Ellis, more frustrated with the zombies than the southerner.

 

“YOU BETTER KID!” He calls up, then turns toward Rochelle and Coach. Rochelle, being the least injured of the three, is supporting the big man. She's biting her bottom lip and chewing it discontentedly, eyes on Ellis as they hobble along. Coach sighs, pulling his arm from her shoulders to shoot an approaching infected with his pump shotgun.

 

“We gotta keep goin’, ‘sides we'll probably attract the lot of ‘em as we go down to the helicopter, so Ellis won't have as much to fight through as us.” The football coach's words are sound enough, though they don't stop the concern in Rochelle’s gaze or the worry that Nick has clawing ferally in his stomach. It doesn't help that Coach doesn't seem all to convinced of his words himself. They have to carry on anyway, the threat of the snarling infected at their heels pushing them to stagger forward.

 

They make it off the bridge and- well isn't this fucking peachy anoTHER FUCKING TANK is on their asses!!! Actually two, one climbs over a bus to their left and the other thunders down from the bridge. He feels panic shock through him and he looks for Ellis. He isn't sure whether to be relieved or not when he doesn't see the kid. It means he isn't running from the tank, but, where is he?! Is he running safely behind the hulking things?

 

The northerner doesn't get the chance to dwell on that because both the tanks begin charging straight toward him. He shoots one but gets thrown by the other, right off the edge of a ledge, falling to the ground next to a bus. Pain courses through his entire body, pulsing harshly at a point in his lower spine and all over his battered chest. There goes his back for the next week! _Lovely._

 

Coach is kneeling beside Nick quickly despite his own injuries, helping him up as Rochelle draws the tanks away, screaming and shooting them with her SMG. As soon as Nick is on his feet, they all book it to the waiting helicopter nearly throwing themselves in.

 

Nick sighs, letting his arm fall from Coach's shoulder, trying to think of anything other than the fact that his body feels like it's been snapped in two then run through a damned trash compactor. He looks at his teammates as he slumps a shoulder into the wall, deciding to check their injuries over to busy his mind. Then his mind goes back to the southerner as soon as he notices his absence.

 

Where's Ellis?!

 

His heart sinks, a feeling of panic beginning to take over him, clawing at his insides.

 

“ _Ellis_?!” He dashes to look outside, forgetting his most likely fractured spine and shattered ribs all together. The kid is still nowhere in his sight. “Shit! FUCKING SHIT!!! He must still be on the bridge! That tank must've thrown him again or something!” Nick should've gone back despite the kid's words, despite the zombies, he should've pushed through! How could he have been so stupid?!? No one should be left to face the infected by themselves no matter how many there are! Nick tries to jump out of the helicopter, Coach stops him, grabbing him by the arm.

 

“Nick no.” He growls sternly. Though there is a strain in his voice and a pain in his eyes that hints at his emotions being conflicted. Nick whips around, a feral snarl leaving him as he levels a desperate glare on the older man.

 

“Ellis is still out there Coach! I left him! We left him! Fuck- Are you saying we leave him to die on the damn bridge?!” Nick tries and fails to pull from the bigger man's grip, twisting his body and hissing in pain. Coach falters at his words, face now pained, sad, frustrated.

 

“No son! We can't… Nick as much as I want to go get him too, we're barely standing as it is and there are two tanks out there!”

 

Rochelle steps forward, her face twisted into a worried frown. She lays a hand on Nick's shoulder.

 

“I'm with Coach on this one. I love Ellis, but we won't be able to fight our way back to him and survive with how we are currently. If he can't get to us here, we'll just ask the pilot to pick him up from the bri-”

 

Suddenly, her voice is drowned out by a loud roar. Three tanks have begun loping toward the helicopter, rows of infected screeching behind them.

 

The docking bay lifts and the helicopter rises from the ground, just out of reach of the tanks.

 

“Shit. So much for us never leaving anyone behind. And I thought I was supposed to be the disloyal asshole of the group… damn it. ” Nick curses a few more times under his breath, carding his free hand through his hair.

 

“Nick, we never said that… We can still go get him……” Rochelle begins, but her voice dies down in her throat as she catches a glimpse of his expression.

 

He is unable to stop the scared and betrayed looking sneer that curls onto his lips, not that he really cares at the moment. His body is in overdrive, heart in his throat, panic and guilt coursing through him, burning his skin, white-hot and terrible. He hasn't dealt with this type of fear in a long while, and it scares him even more that it is brought on because of his worry for someone else. Of course, the gambler buries that and turns the fear into the one thing he always can turn his unwanted emotions into, the one thing he can cope with, rage.

 

Both Rochelle and Coach look shocked and guilty as the weight of what they chose to do finally settles on them and Nick finally yanks himself free from the both of them. He turns swiftly, too pissed off to properly handle their kicked puppy gazes without screaming.

 

“Let's just…. go fucking pick him up, you guys can look at him like that and I'm sure he'll forgive you in a heartbeat. The idiot. Just, don't look at me like that.” He hisses, hands balling into fists. He limps over to and begins banging on the wall that separates them from the cockpit.

 

“Hey! We still have one more to pick up! He's on the bridge!” He yells.

 

Nothing.

 

He bangs on the wall again.

 

“Are you fucking deaf?! We have someone on the bridge!” He chokes down the fear that is threatening to surge back up in him. Trying to repurpose it to his anger that the asshole pilot isn't speaking and not the thought of Ellis struggling to keep ahold of the edge of the bridge.

 

Of Ellis _falling._

 

“I think I see him!” Rochelle calls, voice cracking with relief as she looks outside one of the tiny windows. “Yeah! That's definitely him down there! We gotta go get him!”

 

The helicopter begins to veer away from the bridge.

 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Nick bangs on the wall once more, this time, he uses his axe to make sure it's extra loud. “TURN THE FUCK AROUND!” Ellis _falling._ He slams his fists and the axe so hard against the wall that his hands will definitely bruise later.

 

Fucking shit!

 

_Shit!_

 

“Oh my god!” He hears Rochelle gasp in horror, her voice hitching slightly at the end of her exclamation.

 

Ellis _is_ falling. His brain supplies to him in a cold, dead tone. It sends the panic burning through him again, but this time it is a freezing sort of burn, like all his blood has turned to ice.

 

He whips around to see what she is looking at, only to stagger backwards as the helicopter shakes from the shockwaves from the loud explosion.

 

The bridge.

 

Ellis didn't fall, they bombed the fucking bridge.

 

____

 

The tank is gone, but Ellis is dangling yet again from the bridge. His arms and chest hurt so much but he continues trying to make it back up. He hears the helicopter land and turns his head to look at the action below. Nick gets thrown again, down off a ledge. Ow, that looks like it really hurt! He cringes, blue eyes sparking with worry as he watches the conman crumple to the ground.

 

Ellis bites his lip and begins searching for something to hoist his leg on, wanting desperately to get to Nick's side and help him. He continues to watch as he does this, a warm relief filling him when Coach helps Nick up and they run for the chopper. He smiles wide when they make it, letting out a sigh. He then manages to get his leg hooked on a low hanging bar, the twist of the angle he has to hold it at is painful, but it's something. Now all he has to do is clamber up like last time and get over there.

 

Easier said than done, he doesn't have anymore adrenaline but at least he has an awkward foothold. He grunts and heaves, getting his body partially up onto the bridge. A cacophony of roars sound behind him. He whips his head around, seeing three tanks hurtling towards the helicopter.

 

He watches in horror as the tanks trundle closer and closer. But then, the helicopter is flying up and he feels another bout of warm relief wash through him. He hollers excitedly. Nick, Rochelle, and Coach are safe… awesome! They're gonna come get him, right? The bridge seems safe enough now, the action having shifted off of of it and to the ground below…

 

Wait.

 

No.

 

The helicopter begins to fly away. Ellis watches it, fear beginning to course back into his veins.

 

Wait.

 

“WAIT!” He screams, finally pulling himself all the way up.

 

He watches his friends fly away from him, further and further. He gets to his feet and begins to jump and wave his arms. They wouldn't leave him here! His friends would never leave him like this! Nick would never- He hears engines tearing through the sky and looks up.

 

Planes. Are they? Is the military bombing the bridge?! Oh no, oh God. He begins to run, trying to get off the bridge. He hears them first, hears them falling.

 

No no.

  


The sparse groups of undead that still litter the bridge screech as they notice him and lunge grabbing at his clothes, slowing him down. One tugs him so hard that he falls. The sudden impact with the ground sends all the air whooshing out of him. His ribs protest with knife-like pain as he tries to regain his breath in awful, rattling gasps. He tries to push all the dead guys off of him, tries to shoot them down. But too many begin to swarm and scratch and tear and claw at him.

 

 _I'm sorry Keith. I'll be seeing you sooner than you wanted buddy._ He thinks, relaxing a little and closing his eyes tight. _Sorry Rochelle, sorry Coach…_  He feels tears begin to well up in his eyes but also an odd sense of calm. Of acceptance. _Nick… I'm sure you didn't want to leave me. I said I'd be behind you. Nick… I'm sorry I lied about that… I never was able to tell you that-_

 

The bombs hit and the bridge explodes.


End file.
